Farae & Phoenix 5.8.08
Nov 9, 2014 11:45:57 GMT
Post by Admin on Nov 9, 2014 11:45:57 GMT
« Thread started on: May 12th, 2008, 9:41pm »
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
May 8, 2008
Ferae & Phoenix
His jacket hung low, a belt hugging to his hips where his sword swayed with each slow step. The lower hem of his jacket flared out, cut to separate at his legs though appearing more a robe then a jacket, while the top hug snuggly to his midriff, chest and shoulders. His sleeves flared in a soft silk. Brushing hair lightly from his face he looked to the woodwork of the room, releasing his wrist from behind his back to brush fingers lightly over the smooth surface. Nodding slightly he looked about, his eyes coming to a dusted mirror. It seemed the room was seldom used, or ill maintained. Just the same, it held a certain air of solitude, and a warmth of welcoming. The morning light ribboned in the windows, dust motes dancing within the beams gave a feel of surrealism he came to rather enjoy.
Phoenix woke early, the pressure change upon her mind as a great mass of the Keep woke, in whatever temperament, and began their daily rituals was enough to disturb her sleep if she remained outside the gentle null of the Lair itself. This day was one of those, for she’d been too weary to descend by the time the idea had come to her that perhaps sleep was necessary for further function. She emerged from the room she’d taken into an empty corridor, though as she moved closer to the great hall the roar of life, the clatter of plates and mugs as those below broke their fast was more of a deterrent than a charm.
Turning on her heel Phoenix headed in the other direction, her mind still slow from sleep she did not feel the presence of one within the lesser library until she was already within it. Turning to face the room after carefully closing the door she blinked in utter surprise, though there was no fear in her. Those within the keep were, for the most parts, people she had met before and the new ones… She regarded this newcomer for a moment with a critical air… well, there was nothing in him she feared. No darkness… at least, no darkness like –theirs-
Turning slowly, he removed his fingers from the woodwork, his eyes settling upon Phoenix and her own gaze as she stepped within, the bar of the door giving a soft click as the steel set within the hook. Moving his hands slowly he pressed his right fist into the palm of his left hand before his heart, the fingers of his left folding to encompass the fist as he gave a slow bow. " Pleasant melorol (sunrising), Madam. Forgive my intrusion" Giving the slightest of smiles he watched her in silence, the smile itself never traveled to his eyes however, it was merely something he'd noted in humans that made them more at ease with one another. He felt the slightest twinge of essence and power upon her form and within her, this one may well be one of their mage. "I haven't had the pleasure of acquaintance with you. I am Fera'emar Aleang'Hymn. If my presence trespasses within your chambers forgive me."
His words barely cut the silence of the room, he held his tone soft, almost hushed in respect to the sanctuary of solitude and the knowledge within.
She can feel the gaze of the other upon her, and realizes that she has been spoken to and that custom demands she respond. “Its not real.” She states, flatly, though there is no hint of insult in her. “No need, with her.” She half smiles as she continues. “Reaver doesn’t, and I like him still. No need to lie for her, even with lips.” She moves towards him, though stops some paces away, careful to keep a suitable distance. Not out of respect, but merely with the same caution anyone would treat an unknown creature. She studied him, just as he studied the humans around him, including her. The only difference, perhaps, that Phoenix saw no need to disguise her interest and exploration. “Kyr tysol sai o” (Good morning to you) She adds, her expression failing to change as though she is unaware that in order to return his greeting she has taken his native tongue. “They call me Phoenix. Names are important.” She tilts her head slightly to one side, as though wondering if he is truly attempting to apologize for being within the library. “Not my chambers. You cant reach them, in the Lair. Wont let you in…. The library is an open place. You can come here.” She shrugs, slightly, moving past him to sit in one of the window bays, the large window seat easily accommodating her slight form. “It brings a new day. Chases shadows, burns them ‘til they are gone. Melts the frost, even, sometimes.” She frowns at that, as though not quite sure which mental turn had brought her to the conclusion. “Not all frost. Deep, deep in the mountains there are places that never see the sun. Only darkness.” Then she falls silent, her mind clearly wandering until she breaks free of it. Looking back towards him she smiles. “How does Royal Blood find us? Are we strange to him, as he is to us? Watching us watching them watching us? Just a circle. The simplest of shapes, yet so hard to get right.”
After a moment of thought the smile simply vanished from his lips. Curiosity flitted across his eyes as he sought an explanation for her speech patter, finding it most likely that perhaps she was either 'touched' or simply new to the language in some respect. Watching as she moved to the bay of the window, the dust flakes wavering in their dance as she changed the patterns of air with her movements. Giving the slightest of chuckles, an act rare in the extent of this was a true chuckle, though the amusement died swiftly as he thought on how she said, ' watching us watching them watching us' this little excerpt of her actual statement reminded him slightly of the melody of the wolf.
Looking about to the woodwork once more he spoke, still curious of the manner of construction rather then avoiding eye contact as most would, "I watch to learn. No creature no matter how sly may hide it's nature from a watchful eye. Strange though.. I think not. Merely foreign, though in some ways humans are strange. They leap to such rash conclusion, though I attribute this to their short lives."
His chuckle makes her roll her head slightly so that she might listen to it better, a genuine sound of mirth, however small, after his false smile is one which pleases her. “Not true.” She states simply at his idea that everything will be revealed if watched for long enough. “Takes action, takes change to find it. Simply in habit, the disguise is flawless.” Her thoughts turn briefly to Moro, and the fury she once felt towards his is tempered only by the knowledge that he is suffering for what he did to those she cares about. Not an innocent, this one, at least, not in some respects. She falls silent, allows his thought to unravel and speak themselves before she considers her own response. “Burn faster, burn hotter. Have to make a mark. Have to spawn, have to leave something behind. Be –Remembered-.” She shrugs, slightly at this, her mindset apparently excluding her from her findings of her species. “Touch nothing, do nothing, and when they are dust, they blow away. No memory, no footprint. Lost.” She looks to Fera then, brows coming together slightly in thought. “Humans burn. Burn to live, to touch, and…love. Must do ©
tainted innocence: these things. Must…” She smiles. “Don’t have your time. Time to be cold, to watch. Have to burn, or fade”
Turning his head as he listened he watched her facial expressions, his hands slipping behind him once more, one wrist to be cupped into the palm of his right hand. Shaking his head he spoke, his eyes moving to the sky she had earlier spoken of, " I would argue with you on disguises but to be honest, it is a matter of perspective in your watching, so it is a point hard not to insult others." He kept his distance, the tendrils that flitted over his mind had not gone unnoticed, though he didn't fear her. He was a creature of caution by nature, observant of things before he would partake. Moving to a shelf of books he stopped midway, his eyes coming to her's as she looked to him. " As for humanities need to burn, to leave their mark, their need to love and exist, it is a action of futility.
To burn so hard and fast shortens the candle of life, allowing no real time to develop. While it is true they hold not our years, it is not the length of time we spend but rather what we do with that time that defines us, makes us memorable. As for my.. cold, as you call it, that has little to do with age and race, but rather my experiences." Turning once more he moved to the books, observing the titles as he noted the different subjects and fictional works, or as he termed them, lore.(E)
tainted innocence: At his explanation, however vague, of his ‘Cold’ she snorts, slightly. “Knows that feeling. Dead inside, lost to it. Darkness is safer, they cannot reach you there. Hands… Always reaching always searching. Even the warm ones, seek to fix it, want to help, but help means leaving the dark. Seeing light again, feeling it…” She stops and shudders as though her thoughts have lead her to an undesirable conclusion or memory and the effort with which she pushes them away is almost physical. She turns, slightly, and looks to him more closely. “Held himself together with it. Stopped the fractures spreading, eating… everything…” She nods, slowly, as though processing this tidbit of information. “She didn’t know how. Too lost, too afraid… too young. She broke.” Now, however, she shrugs, turning her attention to other things. “Stories are important. True or not, belief or not. Always stories. Make us believe, or take us away. Think… maybe… or forget. There must always be stories.” She looks back to him, eyebrows raised. “Even in your place. Your far, far away place. Even there. With them.”
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
May 8, 2008
Ferae & Phoenix
His jacket hung low, a belt hugging to his hips where his sword swayed with each slow step. The lower hem of his jacket flared out, cut to separate at his legs though appearing more a robe then a jacket, while the top hug snuggly to his midriff, chest and shoulders. His sleeves flared in a soft silk. Brushing hair lightly from his face he looked to the woodwork of the room, releasing his wrist from behind his back to brush fingers lightly over the smooth surface. Nodding slightly he looked about, his eyes coming to a dusted mirror. It seemed the room was seldom used, or ill maintained. Just the same, it held a certain air of solitude, and a warmth of welcoming. The morning light ribboned in the windows, dust motes dancing within the beams gave a feel of surrealism he came to rather enjoy.
Phoenix woke early, the pressure change upon her mind as a great mass of the Keep woke, in whatever temperament, and began their daily rituals was enough to disturb her sleep if she remained outside the gentle null of the Lair itself. This day was one of those, for she’d been too weary to descend by the time the idea had come to her that perhaps sleep was necessary for further function. She emerged from the room she’d taken into an empty corridor, though as she moved closer to the great hall the roar of life, the clatter of plates and mugs as those below broke their fast was more of a deterrent than a charm.
Turning on her heel Phoenix headed in the other direction, her mind still slow from sleep she did not feel the presence of one within the lesser library until she was already within it. Turning to face the room after carefully closing the door she blinked in utter surprise, though there was no fear in her. Those within the keep were, for the most parts, people she had met before and the new ones… She regarded this newcomer for a moment with a critical air… well, there was nothing in him she feared. No darkness… at least, no darkness like –theirs-
Turning slowly, he removed his fingers from the woodwork, his eyes settling upon Phoenix and her own gaze as she stepped within, the bar of the door giving a soft click as the steel set within the hook. Moving his hands slowly he pressed his right fist into the palm of his left hand before his heart, the fingers of his left folding to encompass the fist as he gave a slow bow. " Pleasant melorol (sunrising), Madam. Forgive my intrusion" Giving the slightest of smiles he watched her in silence, the smile itself never traveled to his eyes however, it was merely something he'd noted in humans that made them more at ease with one another. He felt the slightest twinge of essence and power upon her form and within her, this one may well be one of their mage. "I haven't had the pleasure of acquaintance with you. I am Fera'emar Aleang'Hymn. If my presence trespasses within your chambers forgive me."
His words barely cut the silence of the room, he held his tone soft, almost hushed in respect to the sanctuary of solitude and the knowledge within.
She can feel the gaze of the other upon her, and realizes that she has been spoken to and that custom demands she respond. “Its not real.” She states, flatly, though there is no hint of insult in her. “No need, with her.” She half smiles as she continues. “Reaver doesn’t, and I like him still. No need to lie for her, even with lips.” She moves towards him, though stops some paces away, careful to keep a suitable distance. Not out of respect, but merely with the same caution anyone would treat an unknown creature. She studied him, just as he studied the humans around him, including her. The only difference, perhaps, that Phoenix saw no need to disguise her interest and exploration. “Kyr tysol sai o” (Good morning to you) She adds, her expression failing to change as though she is unaware that in order to return his greeting she has taken his native tongue. “They call me Phoenix. Names are important.” She tilts her head slightly to one side, as though wondering if he is truly attempting to apologize for being within the library. “Not my chambers. You cant reach them, in the Lair. Wont let you in…. The library is an open place. You can come here.” She shrugs, slightly, moving past him to sit in one of the window bays, the large window seat easily accommodating her slight form. “It brings a new day. Chases shadows, burns them ‘til they are gone. Melts the frost, even, sometimes.” She frowns at that, as though not quite sure which mental turn had brought her to the conclusion. “Not all frost. Deep, deep in the mountains there are places that never see the sun. Only darkness.” Then she falls silent, her mind clearly wandering until she breaks free of it. Looking back towards him she smiles. “How does Royal Blood find us? Are we strange to him, as he is to us? Watching us watching them watching us? Just a circle. The simplest of shapes, yet so hard to get right.”
After a moment of thought the smile simply vanished from his lips. Curiosity flitted across his eyes as he sought an explanation for her speech patter, finding it most likely that perhaps she was either 'touched' or simply new to the language in some respect. Watching as she moved to the bay of the window, the dust flakes wavering in their dance as she changed the patterns of air with her movements. Giving the slightest of chuckles, an act rare in the extent of this was a true chuckle, though the amusement died swiftly as he thought on how she said, ' watching us watching them watching us' this little excerpt of her actual statement reminded him slightly of the melody of the wolf.
Looking about to the woodwork once more he spoke, still curious of the manner of construction rather then avoiding eye contact as most would, "I watch to learn. No creature no matter how sly may hide it's nature from a watchful eye. Strange though.. I think not. Merely foreign, though in some ways humans are strange. They leap to such rash conclusion, though I attribute this to their short lives."
His chuckle makes her roll her head slightly so that she might listen to it better, a genuine sound of mirth, however small, after his false smile is one which pleases her. “Not true.” She states simply at his idea that everything will be revealed if watched for long enough. “Takes action, takes change to find it. Simply in habit, the disguise is flawless.” Her thoughts turn briefly to Moro, and the fury she once felt towards his is tempered only by the knowledge that he is suffering for what he did to those she cares about. Not an innocent, this one, at least, not in some respects. She falls silent, allows his thought to unravel and speak themselves before she considers her own response. “Burn faster, burn hotter. Have to make a mark. Have to spawn, have to leave something behind. Be –Remembered-.” She shrugs, slightly at this, her mindset apparently excluding her from her findings of her species. “Touch nothing, do nothing, and when they are dust, they blow away. No memory, no footprint. Lost.” She looks to Fera then, brows coming together slightly in thought. “Humans burn. Burn to live, to touch, and…love. Must do ©
tainted innocence: these things. Must…” She smiles. “Don’t have your time. Time to be cold, to watch. Have to burn, or fade”
Turning his head as he listened he watched her facial expressions, his hands slipping behind him once more, one wrist to be cupped into the palm of his right hand. Shaking his head he spoke, his eyes moving to the sky she had earlier spoken of, " I would argue with you on disguises but to be honest, it is a matter of perspective in your watching, so it is a point hard not to insult others." He kept his distance, the tendrils that flitted over his mind had not gone unnoticed, though he didn't fear her. He was a creature of caution by nature, observant of things before he would partake. Moving to a shelf of books he stopped midway, his eyes coming to her's as she looked to him. " As for humanities need to burn, to leave their mark, their need to love and exist, it is a action of futility.
To burn so hard and fast shortens the candle of life, allowing no real time to develop. While it is true they hold not our years, it is not the length of time we spend but rather what we do with that time that defines us, makes us memorable. As for my.. cold, as you call it, that has little to do with age and race, but rather my experiences." Turning once more he moved to the books, observing the titles as he noted the different subjects and fictional works, or as he termed them, lore.(E)
tainted innocence: At his explanation, however vague, of his ‘Cold’ she snorts, slightly. “Knows that feeling. Dead inside, lost to it. Darkness is safer, they cannot reach you there. Hands… Always reaching always searching. Even the warm ones, seek to fix it, want to help, but help means leaving the dark. Seeing light again, feeling it…” She stops and shudders as though her thoughts have lead her to an undesirable conclusion or memory and the effort with which she pushes them away is almost physical. She turns, slightly, and looks to him more closely. “Held himself together with it. Stopped the fractures spreading, eating… everything…” She nods, slowly, as though processing this tidbit of information. “She didn’t know how. Too lost, too afraid… too young. She broke.” Now, however, she shrugs, turning her attention to other things. “Stories are important. True or not, belief or not. Always stories. Make us believe, or take us away. Think… maybe… or forget. There must always be stories.” She looks back to him, eyebrows raised. “Even in your place. Your far, far away place. Even there. With them.”